As many of us do, I have been journalling my feelings about being married to a drunk for YEARS. I recently went through and read old journal entries from the 1990's that still apply to this day. I feel that journalling is a great way to get our feelings out and also to keep a record of how things change/didn't change. 

The reason I want to share my old journal entries is I hope someone who is young and new to being married to an AH can read about real deep experiences from us "old ladies" when we were young and full of hope. They can realize that things don't get better when they are married to an AH who refuses to stop drinking. I want them to know the long term effects of the mental torture our drunk husbands put us through and perhaps they will decide early in their marriages that they need to get out. I want them to reflect on our journals BEFORE they have children with these men. I want my pain and suffering to help someone who is in the same position as I was to take their power back, to realize they are better than the drunk, they are not what and who the drunk tells them they are. 

FEBRUARY 2, 1999

I am sitting here at the computer, it’s 9:30 at night and you are still not home yet.  You called me at 7:00 to say you would be home in 45 minutes.  Since then you are not answering my beeps nor your phone.  What I need to know is why?  Why do you do this to yourself, to me, to us.  Are you still punishing me?  Do you hate me?  Do you like making me worry? 

You left a package of cigarrettes on the ledge and yes, I am smoking them.  It is very hard to quit smoking when you are a nervous wreck.  I cried to you last week about my greatest fear, and that was something happening to you.  Do you care?  Don’t say that you do.  Actions speak far louder than your words.  I hope I am not writing this letter to a dead man, or a man in the hospital.  Because for all I know, that is where you are right this minute.

I would give the world to make your pain go away, to ease your worries but you won’t let me.  You would rather let Budweiser do it for you and that really hurts me.  Every weekend is like a dream and every week day is like a nightmare these days.  You can’t even begin to imagine how much I fear for you.  You are 35 years old yet you are a teenager in so many ways.  I sometimes feel like your mother, not your wife. 

I try to coax you into not drinking by offering sex, food, anything to bring you home safely and nothing works.  And this is sad.  You just sweated out a lot of painful months worrying over your court case and here you are, barely a week later, drinking and driving again.  Your luck is going to run out, is that what you want?  Maybe deep down inside, you want to get thrown in jail again, lose your business, your house, your wife.  Why else would you behave in such a reckless manner?  I’m here to set you straight.  YOU ARE NOT INVINCIBLE!  You cannot drive better drunk, you are not a nicer person drunk, and drinking doesn’t make your problems go away.  The sad thing is, you already know that, but you still do it, again and again.  And I know it isn’t personal, that it is YOUR problem, but don’t you understand?  We are two sides of the same coin.  If you crash and hit the ground, I crash right along with you.  But I’m sober enough to remember ever detail.

Right now I don’t know whether to scream, cry, or start calling local hospitals.  I’m sorry, I worry about you, but you are my husband and I love you very very much.  And you would worry for me if the tables were turned.  In fact, you would not tolerate this behavior from me.  You would have left years ago.  So what does that say about me?  All the AL-ANON meetings in the world could not take away this worry I have for you.  I have never felt so helpless in my entire life, and this is a weekly thing.  Almost daily.  And I’m growing so tired of it all.  Your lack of responsibility to me is staggering.  I am afraid to have a child with you, then there will be two of us worrying over where’s daddy tonight?  You say you don’t do it to hurt me, but it hurts more than you will ever know.  The simple fact that you chose a bar of nameless faces over me kills me.  And I’m not like you, I don’t hold my feelings in, you know exactly how I feel yet you don’t seem to care.  I say “seem” because maybe you do care but you can’t help it.  But I’m sorry, when you pick up that first beer you are totally sober and know what you are doing and what you could get yourself into.  Yet you do it anyway when you know deep in your heart you can’t control it, it controls you.  I know, you are rolling your eyes right now, but that’s just tough.  I am speaking the God’s truth.

I can’t stand that my whole entire being revolves around you.  I wish I had friends and a life, but I chose to stay home and worry over you for fear if I don’t, you might never come home again.  All the “I’m sorry’s” in the world aren’t going to fix this one. 

In my eyes we have the perfect marriage, we get along, laugh together, love eachother, why isn’t that enough for you?  Why must I be the only one to work on this marriage?  To change my ways?  I know you resent me for something, maybe many things but drinking them away isn’t going to change things. 

I never thought I could be this scared.  I’m only typing this letter to get this off my chest and to get my mind off the fact that you could be dead right now or in jail.